


Home Is the Sailor

by NancyBrown



Series: Intersections [8]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Children of Earth Fix-It, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-29
Updated: 2010-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/pseuds/NancyBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto has called many places home, but he's only met it once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is the Sailor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for writing chat hosted by Pocky Slash. prompt: a long way from home

There were too many places in his past to think of one in particular as home, but Ianto found he missed them each in turn as he left. Like it was yesterday, he remembered the estate where he'd grown up, the little room that smelled of damp and the too-thin walls through which he could hear his parents fighting on one side, his sister's radio up too loud on another.

Three days after his dad died, a day after the funeral, he took every pound he'd scraped together from part time jobs and wherever else he could and he bought a train ticket to London. His first flat had been worse than his room back home, tiny and foul no matter how much bleach he used. The flat he'd shared too briefly with Lisa had pillowed him with her, perfumes and furnishings and colours too soft to meet his tastes, but loved because they were hers. His flat in Cardiff when he returned, tail between legs, was barely lived-in, forsaken first for a chair in a cold basement storage room, and later a warm camp bed. Rhiannon's house had never been home, as much as she'd said he was welcome there.

When he'd come to the future, he'd had only a place on the floor with a Jack who didn't know him, and home had never felt so far away. Then they'd shared a large red house on a planet with no-one but each other and the dogs and the sound of the wind in the trees for company. And now …

Every day on the Celes Tirra was different. He slept in a bunk not quite as small as the camp bed, and he rose in the darkness of space and slept every night between worlds. They docked, for an hour or a few days (or however time was marked in each system, by each species) and sometimes they spent a whole week on some world or another. Jack loved the ship, Ianto viewed it as a cherished necessity, but always they went back to her, and Jack would place his hand upon her side, and Jack at least was home.

Then Jack would turn to him, and give Ianto that smile, and that was home enough.


End file.
